Page 11 of Hot Lovin'

“You’ve changed your mind about the whole ‘not dating’ me thing, haven’t you? Now you know I have pet names for inanimate objects.” Her eyes twinkle as she scrunches her nose.

Fuck, she’s precious.

I reach for her hand, grasping it in mine and swiping my thumb across her palm. Our eyes lock, and electricity passes between us. The air around us thickens, charged with the promise of something extraordinary. Lottie’s eyelids flicker and her gaze drops to her hand as I bring it to my mouth, nipping at the fleshy, raised area at the base of her thumb.

“Did you know that this”—I soothe the area with my tongue—“is called the Mount of Venus? It’s named after the Roman goddess of love, beauty, and fertility. A prominent Mount of Venus, like yours, indicates qualities of love, passion, and vitality, all of which you have in abundance.”

Lottie’s throat bobs as she swallows hard. “Are you testing that poetic side on me, Sheriff Jordan?”

“Maybe a little.” I grin. “But to answer your question, nothing could change my mind about you, not even if you told me you like to dance naked in your backyard, sacrificing meat-free sausages to the Vegan gods under a full moon.”

That earns me an explosion of laughter so infectious I find myself joining in again.

“Oh, my god, can you imagine?” Lottie asks, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

“The whole naked dancing part?” I smirk. “Absolutely.”

That comment earns me a beautiful blush that spreads from her cheeks all the way down her neck to her cleavage.

“I’d likely do myself an injury with all my bits and bobs flying in different directions. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly skinny.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” I say gruffly, my cock swelling uncomfortably behind my zipper at the mental image of her naked curves gilded by moonlight.

Her blush deepens as she eyes me thoughtfully. “You have a sharp sense of humor beneath all that gruffness, Sheriff. Who was foolish enough not to love you enough?”

Her question comes out of left field and floors me. Christ, she’s perceptive. But then, I’ve learned that from watching her work over the last week, how attentive she is and how she sees things others don’t. It’s what makes her so damn good at her job. She’s professional and fiercely protective of people’s privacy.

But can I trust her with the parts of myself no one knows? With the man I am in the dark? Can I tell her about all the lonely pillows I rested my head on in strange beds as a child because my parents didn’t want me?

I look into her warm eyes again, and I have my answer. Yes. Because Lottie would never make me feel less because of my childhood. Meeting her, having her in my life, has only made me feel more.

I open my mouth to tell her about the parts of myself I’ve never shared before, but our server arrives with our meals, and the moment passes. Maybe it’s just as well.

We continue to talk about everything and nothing as we tuck into our food—favorite movies and books and the small quirks of our lives. Lottie tells me about her childhood, growing up in the city with her parents and younger sister, and how she always knew she wanted a career in helping others.

Her laughter, free and uninhibited, fills the space around us like airborne endorphins. As the evening wears on, my laughter comes more easily, deep belly laughs that bubble up without my permission. I want to carry her around with me, basking in her effervescence and stealing kisses whenever I want.

“Look at you, all relaxed and smiley,” Lottie teases, leaning forward across the table, her chin propped on her elbow as she studies me with those hypnotic golden eyes. “Who are you, and what have you done with Quinn?”

“Guess you bring out the best in me,” I confess, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

“Good,” she says simply, her eyes softening with pleasure. “Because I like this version of you.”

By the time we leave the restaurant, night has fully taken hold, wrapping the town in a quiet blanket. We walk side by side, close but not touching, the unspoken tension dancing between us. The urge to reach out and bridge that gap is overwhelming, but I hold back, aware of the line we’re skirting.

“Tonight was nice,” Lottie murmurs as we approach her car, her voice low in the stillness.

“Nice?” I stop, turning to look at her in horror. “I don’t do nice, Lottie.”

Her warm gaze holds mine. “Oh, I don’t know. I think Sunrise Bay’s sheriff is the nicest man I’ve ever met.”

And suddenly, nice is good. It’s fucking awesome. It’s everything I wanted her to say and more.

“Then we’ll have to do it again sometime,” I suggest, hoping my voice sounds steadier than I feel.

“Sometime soon,” she agrees, a promise in her words that sends a jolt of electricity through me.

“Very soon,” I confirm, letting the moment stretch, thick with possibility.

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